


Chuck Vs. The Six Pack

by Principia



Category: Chuck (TV)
Genre: AU, Chuck AU, F/M, Gen, Season/Series 05 AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-03-13
Packaged: 2018-04-11 11:39:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 34
Words: 17,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4434131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Principia/pseuds/Principia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chuck Vs. The Six Pack just scarcely qualifies as an Orphan Black AU, since the normal characters either aren't seen, don't exist, or are being "played" by someone entirely different, and it ignores OB continuity almost altogether. If you've gotten to the end, first of all, thanks, and second, if you feel strongly like this ought to have Orphan Black tags, let me know. Ta!</p></blockquote>





	1. Chuck Vs. The Six Pack, Part 1

§§§§§§

Sarah was almost finished with her double- and triple-check of her security precautions. She needed to make damn sure that she'd applied every single one of the redirects and levels of encryption Chuck had freshly crafted for Carmichael Industries' systems. Sarah wanted to put as much virtual distance between here and wherever Ryker was holed up these days, before sending him his expected follow-up from "Shaw."

Not that she was operating under any illusion that Ryker was going to  _believe_  this was coming from Daniel Shaw.

Ryker surely still had contacts in or around the Agency, but really all he'd _need_ would be access to the Internet, or, hell, a TV with the BBC or CNN.  Beckman had made sure that Daniel Shaw's name had been spread across the major national and international news outlets as the man responsible for the Omen virus, with a wink and a nod to the "private security team" that had stopped him. But since Shaw's _face_ hadn't likewise been plastered all over the media, anyone in the business would know it meant Shaw was already in custody.

Sarah couldn't fault Beckman for the publicity. That bone-throw to Carmichael Industries and Beckman's offer to rejoin the CIA were as close to a make-good as the government was ever likely to extend for the Decker-Shaw debacle. But now Sarah knew she was almost certainly walking straight into a trap.

That was  _exactly_  why she hadn't wanted Chuck, Casey and Morgan dragged into this. There were already too many lives at stake as it was. Though at least now she'd know where her husband and their partners were, instead of worrying about whether – scratch that, where and how – Chuck was pulling out all the stops to stay right on her heels.

Under any other circumstances, she would've let Chuck in, and he'd be here now, at her side, helping her put together some genius multilayered plan to get their bad guys into custody and get Team Carmichael home in time to watch that stupid ball drop on TV... but of course it  _had_  to be Budapest.  _Bastards._

_I know Chuck,_  Sarah thought,  _he's letting this go **way**  too easily_. She'd always  _hated_  it when her husband tried to be Casey's brand of "cool," even before they were married. Chuck's attempts to squelch his natural anxieties had the potential to get them in almost as much trouble as if he were having a full-blown freak-out.

She'd have to make do with letting Chuck and Casey think they could have her back. If she held them at arms' length, maybe that could keep everyone else safe.

Sarah registered the soft padding of Casey's steps behind her. He wasn't trying to sneak up on her,  _per se_. Casey had to know she could hear him sidling up to her under the steady click-clack of the keyboard beneath her fingertips.

Three guesses as to what he wanted, and she was pretty sure he wasn't here for a pony or more dating tips.

"Hey, listen," Casey started, sounding like he was going for nonchalant, "I know you can't talk to Bartowski about what's really going on. That blabbermouth can't keep a secret to save his life, but you can tell me, hmm?"

§§§§§§


	2. Chuck Vs. The Six Pack, Part 2

§§§§§§

_Nice try, Casey._

"I appreciate that John, but the less you know, the better."

Crisp, to the point, and off-putting: he still wasn’t used to her calling him John. Except instead of going away,  _John_  was still standing there,  _hovering_.

"Really," Sarah added flatly.

She could see a muted reflection off the monitor's surface, of Casey fidgeting behind her, probably making what she’d call a kicked-puppy face if he were Chuck. Casey must be debating whether he should press his luck, or play it as though he didn’t really care one way or the other.

She might as well have flipped him the bird.

"Sure," Casey said, a little too casually, "No problem."

Now she knew for sure that Casey was treading lightly — otherwise, she'd need earplugs right now.

Instead, off he went without so much as a grunt. Casey was definitely sulking.

Sarah knew Casey wouldn’t be satisfied with her answer, but she was sure that in the time they had left before leaving for Budapest, Casey wouldn’t be able to find out any more about Kieran Ryker than that he was a monumental and monumentally  _dangerous_  a-hole.

If Casey had any idea what was really going on, he might end up reverting to his tried-and-true, shoot-many-ask-once approach and get  _everyone_  killed.

The cold shoulder gambit was the most suitable option Sarah had left to her from among a series of increasingly unrealistic or crappy choices. This way wasn't perfect, but this way would be best.

It had to be.


	3. Chuck Vs. The Six Pack, Part 3

§§§§§§

As Sarah finished rattling off her orders and marched past him, Chuck couldn't help feeling like she'd just told him to  _stay 'ere and make sure 'e doesn't leave_. Which Chuck might have found funny if the knotted tension in his gut wasn't blossoming into outright nausea.

He trusted Sarah, of _course_ he trusted her, even though she'd spent almost the entire trip from L.A. to here deep in her own head, deadly serious and completely uncommunicative.

But she'd just "finished" setting up a sniper's viewpoint for Casey on a _loose stack of magazines_. The gun had wobbled on the table behind her, for heaven's sake.

"Ohhhkay."

Chuck looked down at the sloppily-prepared gun. For whatever reasons Sarah didn't want to explain to him, Sarah was clearly not all here right now. And he was supposed to stand by and watch her walk out the door without at least some idea of what to be ready for?

Chuck wondered for a fleeting moment whether this was how Casey and Morgan had felt when Sarah had been steamrolling her way out of Castle on her way to finding him in Thailand. Minus the death stares and getting mule-kicked into a holding cell.

"No, wait, no, you know what, Sarah, Sarah, no. Not okay," Chuck blurted out, "Can't we just set aside the whole CEO of Carmichael Industries thing, just for a second?"


	4. Chuck Vs. The Six Pack, Part 4

§§§§§§

"No, Chuck, that wasn't part of the deal," Sarah bit back at him defensively.

She was hunched over, starting to fasten the buttons on her coat like it was armor.

"Yeah, except that I'm your husband," _(who didn't miss that pout and how she couldn't look at him)_  "who would do anything in the world for you, and I'm worried!"

"Okay! Look, this isn't about me," Sarah continued, softening her tone.

Of _course_ it wasn't. Sarah never got this consumed by looking after herself.

"There are lives in danger, because of something that..."

_C'mon, baby, you know you can tell me._

Then she shook it off with an eyeroll.

"Look, if I tell you, I'm not only compromising _their_ safety, but _your safety_ as well."

And now Sarah, his cool, calm, unflappable Sarah was borderline frantic. And hand-talking. No reason to be worried at _all_.


	5. Chuck Vs. The Six Pack, Part 5

§§§§§§

"Okay, so when you see Ryker, what then? What are you gonna do?"

Sarah paused at the door. She turned to face Chuck, now calm and very certain.

"I’m gonna kill him, Chuck."

Chuck was wrong. He hadn't been watching the old Sarah Walker, the hardass of the CAT Squad and Director Graham's chosen instrument of wrath. Today there wasn’t even a hint of grim satisfaction in his wife’s face, just saddened determination.

The door slammed shut behind Sarah with a solid thud. And then she was gone.

Chuck stared at the closed hotel door. He wasn’t sure for how long.

"Seems a little rattled, don’tcha think?" Casey rumbled, from out of nowhere.

Chuck spun on Casey, nostrils flaring.

“ _Now_ you decide to say something?”

"What? You thought I was gonna step in the middle of your domestic?"

“ _Domestic_? Casey—”

"Look, Bartowski, I know you’re nervous, but as you and your missus are so fond of putting it, don’t freak out. Come on over here and have a seat, I’ll see if I can make this setup work. We’re nowhere near the Vanquish’s top range. Besides, this many people around, I don’t know that I could get a clean shot anyway, and I’m not about to shoot up a boulevard full of civilians."

"Was that supposed to be you trying to make me feel better? Is it okay if I  _completely_  freak out, y’know,  _internally_?” Chuck barked, thumping his chest, “No outward signs of said freaking?”

"Knock yourself out," Casey said flatly.

Chuck strode across the room and grabbed a small stool. Trying to surveil the street from that brocaded comfy chair would be too weird.

He set the stool down next to Casey, then snatched the binoculars off the comfy chair as he took a seat.

"You have my personal no-freak-out guarantee. This is a freak-out-free zone. Nooooo freakin’ way."

Casey gave him a skeptical look and a grunt.

Chuck took a huge deep breath, and exhaled loudly, then started tweaking the oculars, checking his view of the street, then tweaking the settings again. 

He had a few minutes until Sarah would be able to get to the café. Chuck didn't know for sure why she'd picked this massive old-movie-style residential hotel for their stakeout. If he had to guess, it was either due to its sheer size (easier to confuse or lose pursuers, especially with the entrance all the way around the end of the block), or out of some weird nostalgia for her previous digs in L.A..

After the fourth or fifth round of adjustments, Casey reached out a hand and grabbed Chuck firmly by the shoulder.

"Whoa, you can stop right there."

"What?" Chuck asked, as he continued adjusting the diopter.

"You keep fiddling with those or try to straighten my stack, and I’m gonna shove one of these magazines up your left nostril."

Chuck turned his head to look at Casey with a puzzled frown.

"Sure, yeah, that was  _very_  calming, thank you, Casey.”

"I’m just sayin’ there’s no sense in getting yourself all wound up when there’s nothing you can do except wait. For once."

Chuck sat quietly for a moment, considering his surroundings. There had to be _something_ he could—

"Y’know, if you’re having trouble thinking of ways to make yourself useful, I’ll give you some suggestions."

_Wait, what?_

“Casey! You know  _Calvin and Hobbes_?”

"It was one’a Kathleen’s favorites. Now if you’re aiming to be helpful, keep still before I drop a pterodactyl down your chimney."

"I think you’re mixing your comics metaphors there, Casey."

Casey gave Chuck a warning growl. _Whoops._

Chuck cleared his throat, made one last quick adjustment to the binoculars, then started scanning the street in earnest.

The sooner they could have this be over, with Sarah back and safe and sound, the better.

Whatever _this_ was.


	6. Chuck Vs. The Six Pack, Part 6

§§§§§§

Sitting back and watching the comings and goings at the café was like wading through some slowly-unfolding dialogue in a JRPG. Not that Chuck had had the time to play through one of those epics, well, almost five years.

He remembered the slightly unreal feeling, sitting on the edge of your seat the entire time, wondering whether you were heading for a cut scene or if every click of the circle button was taking you one step closer to a big, nasty combat.

It had been a lot easier to find those imaginary battles fun before he'd experienced the real thing.

Chuck could feel himself winding up as the minutes passed with nothing visible going on. His mind was starting to race like a hamster on Red Bull.

_Think of this as just another stakeout. This is the way Sarah wants you to help. Don't pull another Rio._

He'd been working his ass off for the months since he'd lost the Intersect—again—to play catch-up on the years of intensive training and muscle memory a regular agent would've had by now.

_Fewer bad habits to unlearn,_ Sarah had reassured him, more than once. Kind as they were, her words didn't feel very comforting right now. Not when for once it might seriously be _her_ depending on _him_ to keep her safe, from who knew what.

It was easy to forget about the information side of the Intersect when it was helping you do gymnastics off the top of a moving train. Chuck knew he'd been taking that steady stream of intelligence as a given, almost for granted, for a long while. After all, there were so many gaps or errors or deliberate omissions from it ( _garbage in, garbage out_ ), that the Intersect's database had started to seem almost like knowledge obtained the old-fashioned way.

Now, though, without it, and without conventional access to the CIA's files? For all Chuck knew, Sarah could be just as surrounded by the world's most wanted as they'd been on their first real date.

_Or our **second** first date_ , Sarah cheekily corrected in his head.

The eyecups on the binoculars were starting to get that sticky, suction-y feeling Chuck hated from long stakeouts. And it had only been maybe 15 minutes. In Hungary. In _December_.

"Still nothin'," Chuck sighed.

He let the binoculars down for a second.

"Look, I know I typically overreact to stuff like this, but there is something about this entire situation that I _do not like_."

"This time you might be right, Bartowski."

_What?_

"Did some digging. Turns out Ryker's whole file's been redacted. Which means whatever happened between him and Sarah ended pretty damn badly," Casey continued, with a hint of a disquieted laugh in his voice.

Badly enough that someone important, very important, had wanted Ryker's entire file locked down tight. And Sarah was headed straight for a one-on-one showdown with him.


	7. Chuck Vs. The Six Pack, Part 7

§§§§§§

"Even _Shaw's_ file's not a total blackout," Casey grumbled.

_Not even **mine** is._

In either case, the generous selection of embarrassments the government could've been in for hadn't been enough to get _those_ files wiped.

What exactly did Ryker _do_?

Even without the binoculars, Chuck could see there was movement towards Sarah down at the café now. Better look sharp.

A waiter was bringing her a coffee—but she hadn't ordered a thing.

Sarah tried to speak to the waiter who'd swept past her, in what sounded to Chuck like smooth, fluid Hungarian. Or he assumed it was Hungarian; it didn't sound quite like the numerous other foreign languages Sarah had whipped out in front of him over the years. Not that he'd have the faintest clue what she was saying these days if she didn't fill him in.

_C'mon, Sarah, talk to me._

§§§§§§

" _Excuse me, I didn't order this,_ " Sarah said, dusting off her Hungarian. The waiter swept back towards the doors of the café, ignoring her completely.

The last thing Sarah wanted to do was cause a scene—unless she needed one—but Hungarian waiters weren't usually  _that_  rude. Which meant either he hadn't understood her, or...

Sarah looked back over her shoulder at the waiter. If he bolted, she was going after him, but instead he went right back into the restaurant.

Regardless, Sarah sure as hell wasn't gonna drink this coffee.

She looked down at the saucer, and there was some kind of note scribbled on a napkin underneath the espresso cup. She highly doubted it was an attempt at a pickup from from one of the café's other patrons.

Time to use her eyes in the sky.

§§§§§§

Chuck's earpiece crackled.

"Chuck, Casey, keep an eye on that waiter," Sarah said sternly.

It looked like Sarah was retrieving something from under the coffee cup.

Chuck's first instinct would normally be to take the excuse to join his wife out on the street, but it felt like he and Casey needed to keep their vantage point from here for now.

Casey didn't so much as take his eyes away from his scope. Seemed like they were of a mind for once.

Which meant this was either about to go like clockwork, or go spectacularly wrong.


	8. Chuck Vs. The Six Pack, Part 8

§§§§§§

Naturally, the napkin bore a set of instructions. Get off at the Market Hall stop.

Sarah knew  _exactly_  where Ryker wanted her, the twisted S.O.B..

Alone, of course.

"Sarah, what is it?" Chuck’s gentle, concerned voice sounded in her ear.

If Ryker had been at all forthcoming with his lackeys, he'd know for a fact by now that it wasn't Daniel Shaw here to pay his respects. And since whatever allies Shaw might've once been able to scrape together had scattered like roaches after the collapse of The Ring, there'd be no question of him having sent an intermediary to the meet.

Even a slime like Clyde Decker had only gotten involved in Shaw's schemes under the threat of blackmail, and anyone who knew how that had panned out for Decker and Shaw would be _beyond_ blackmailing or bribery.

They'd have to be mad, suicidal, or both not to be.

§§§§§§

"That’s not Ryker," Casey snapped, rearing back from his scope. " _What the hell?_ "

Chuck brought his binoculars back up and scanned quickly for who Casey might mean in partic–

A motorcycle jacket, _long_ , wildly curly cool blonde hair…

And _his wife’s face_.

Chuck could barely believe what he was seeing, but then he shook it off. The face work looked impeccable from here, but whoever had designed the entire get-up clearly hadn't been given a remotely recent photograph of Sarah.

What was the point of Ryker having a sidekick made up like Sarah, if he wasn't going to bother making sure her look was current? 

"What the hell is he up to?" Casey barked.

Even _Casey_ was thrown. But Sarah, on the other hand, seemed… unfazed? _Unsurprised?_

That  _was_  a disguise, wasn't it? What else could it be?

§§§§§§

Sarah had always braced for this eventuality in the back of her mind, that one of these run-ins would coincide with a mission. She'd almost been surprised when it hadn't happened during her extended dance with Volkoff Industries. This kind of theatrical gesture would've been exactly Alexei Volkoff's style.

Sarah wondered for an idle moment where this woman had come from, how or why she'd gotten involved with Ryker or Shaw. Sarah would sooner believe Casey turning into a penguin than that her appearance was a coincidence. 

No sign of shock from her counterpart. Sarah sighed internally.

_Another one for the "someone I'm never sending Christmas cards to" list._

§§§§§§

Chuck swallowed hard, and tried not to sound as bewildered as he felt right now.

If Sarah was calm, he could be calm. ”Sarah, what’s goin’ on?”

"Listen…" Sarah started, in a soothing tone. Not to him. "I don’t know what you’ve been told about–"

The other woman gave Sarah a scolding, give-me-a-break look, like  _they’d met before_.

§§§§§§

"You’re a rotten handler,  _sestra._ ”  


_Oh **shit**._

§§§§§§

_Sestra_? Did that mean what it sounded like?

Sarah’s ersatz twin had a thick Eastern European accent to go with the hair. She looked pleased with herself, like she’d scored points in some kind of game.

"I don’t want to be your sister, meathead,” Sarah ground out, anger flashing across her face, then vanishing almost as soon as it had appeared.

Sister.  _Sister?_

Sarah’s tone brought her lookalike up short. She seemed almost wounded.

"You know I do not like when you call me that," she sniffed.

"And you know I don't like surprises, _Helena_ ," Sarah replied, leveling out her tone.

Chuck's heart leapt into his throat and his mouth went dry, choking the words out of him. Who was this Helena? Where did she come from? What did she want with Sarah?

§§§§§§

"My employer, he does not like you very much. You were not very nice to him." Helena clucked her tongue.  


_Well that only narrows it down to a few thousand criminals._ Though Sarah was almost certain she could still count on that employer being one of two men.

Better confirm _which_ sleaze was paying Helena's tab and then get her out of here before she hurt anyone.

"Should I bother asking what brings you to Budapest?" Sarah continued, "Or who?"

"Kye-ran Ryker. Kee-ran Ryker? He thinks you owe him a _lot_ of money."


	9. Chuck Vs. The Six Pack, Part 9

§§§§§§

Chuck's head felt full, swimmy, and a dull roar was building in his ears.

_Ray has gone bye-bye, Egon. What have you got left?_

"Can't believe that you're in bed with Ryker," Chuck faintly heard Sarah drawl, sounding almost bored.

Then the sound of Sarah's voice crackled–and cut out entirely.

"Did _your_ earpiece just go?" Chuck croaked.

Casey didn't have to give him an answer, not with that look on his face.

"We gotta get down there now, Casey!"

Chuck leapt up from his stool. Casey was so hot on his heels, Chuck didn't think he'd bothered to take down his sniper point.

Casey grabbed a machine pistol out of the gear on the bed before they ran out the door.

The door slammed shut behind them, hard enough to shake the pictures on the walls of the back hall of this gigantic hotel.

§§§§§§

Helena looked like she was a sucking on a lemon, her mouth twisting to the side as she looked around at the other tables jerkily. Sarah wasn't sure whether she was stalling or genuinely considering how to respond. Though based on previous experience, Helena might be considering how long it would take her to lay waste to the other diners at the café, or thinking about what she might order for lunch, or contemplating the odds that the kitchen would still be willing to produce a meal for her if she killed the rest of the patrons and staff.

_Keep calm, keep_ her _calm, just keep Helena calm._ If Sarah couldn't manage that, the people on this entire street might pay the price.

Helena eventually turned her attention back to Sarah.

"Kieran Ryker is very dangerous and very desperate. I don't know what he's promised you, but whatever it is, I almost guarantee he can't or _won't_ deliver it."

"Ryker is pig," Helena spat. "But y _ou_ are here," she continued, leaning forward as her voice took on an intimate tone, "even if you weren't very nice to _me_ the last time we met."

_Would the butter knife be enough to go through Helena's pants and into her femoral?_

"The last time we met, you tried to  _kill me_."

"I _said_ that was mistake," Helena said, pouting.

"You'll forgive me if I have a hard time believing that," Sarah muttered.

Sarah took a deep breath, letting her head fall for a moment as though she were closing her eyes. Then Helena _smiled_.

"You should keep better eye on your  _pets_. Especially the one that's your big star," Helena said, looking up, probably right at the hotel room across the street, knowing the way today was going.

Sarah wouldn't give her the satisfaction ( _or the potential free shot_ ) of following her line of sight.

"Too bad _pets_ not housebroke," Helena continued, a smirk in her voice as she tilted her head and looked past Sarah.  


_No._

Sarah cast a worried glance over her shoulder—and sure enough, she could see Chuck and Casey's heads above the rest of the crowd's, just outside the exit of the hotel, all the way up the long city block.

Sarah pushed away from the table and could only hope Casey would be his usual unsubtle self. Helena might be psychotic, but she hadn't seemed keen on the idea of her life ending at someone else's hands in the past.

Time for Plan B.

The public bus Ryker wanted her on in the first place wasn't much of a getaway car, but it would have to do.

_If it's good enough for the "brothers" Carmichael, it's good enough for me._

§§§§§§

The distant entrance to this hotel from the meet spot had seemed like such a good idea, until now.

The sign for the Kávézó Mjëlka was bobbing ahead in Chuck's sights as he dodged around and between the civilians in this busy tourist district. Breaking into a sprint would attract too much attention, might even get them stopped on the street, so Chuck kept pace with Casey's determined stride.

The people on the sidewalk all seemed calm enough, which meant Sarah probably still had the situation in hand at the café. So why did it feel like this was life or death?

Chuck caught movement out of the corner of his eye and snapped his attention back to what was in front of him instead of down the block. He and Casey were coming right up on a large tour group. They were moving in a chattery herd, complete with a guide waving one of those bright flags on the end of a telescoping pole.

Chuck shuffled dutifully behind the group for a moment or two, looking around for some way to pass without mowing people down. Then someone in the middle of the tour must've dropped something or tripped; the pack screeched to a halt.

Chuck barely avoided colliding with the woman who'd stopped right in front of him. Ahead, Chuck saw that Casey was just making it around the gaggle of tourists, by cutting between two parked cars and momentarily into to traffic before getting back to the sidewalk.

Chuck started squeezing his way past the gathering, spitting out as many forms of "excuse me" as he'd learned in various European languages as he went, ignoring the grumblings directed at him.

Sarah was still too far away.

Chuck broke into a jog, dodging other pedestrians and plenty of dirty looks. He couldn't care much about the attention he might be attracting at this point.  


Chuck darted across the street towards the café—but Sarah had disappeared, and so had her lookalike.

"You see either one of 'em?" Casey asked urgently, as he caught up to Chuck.

"No! _Dammit!_ "


	10. Chuck Vs. The Six Pack, Part 10

§§§§§§

Sarah and... whoever that other woman really was were nowhere in sight.

"Where, where's Sarah? Did she take Sarah?" Chuck asked, frantic.

Chuck spun in all directions. It wouldn't do them any good to run off at full speed in the wrong direction, panic or no panic.

"Got her!" Casey shouted.

Chuck turned to see Sarah's near-carbon copy hauling ass up the street, a large pistol in her hand. The sight of the gun alone was enough to send the civilians in her way scattering, but there'd been no sound of shots and there was no smell of gunpowder in the air. She hadn't fired _yet_.

With a quick tap on Chuck's shoulder, Casey took off after the woman.

Chuck hoped to hell that didn't mean the waiter (or several waiters) had snatched Sarah off the street. But that would've attracted at least some attention, and this Helena seemed to have taken it all with her. Sarah wasn't in pursuit, that meant she should still be somewhere nearby...

Chuck turned and saw Sarah on board the public bus he and Casey had just dodged behind a minute ago. He might still have a chance to join her.

"Sarah, w–!"

§§§§§§

Sarah had finally wrestled her her way to the back of the crowded bus. From there, she'd have a view of anyone following her, and if she had to, she could shoot or kick out the rear window.

More importantly, she wasn't about to use the rest of the people on this bus as human shields. If anyone wanted to get to her, they'd have a shot free and clear.

But Ryker wouldn't want her dead. She had information he needed.

Sarah braced for the expected lurch of the bus starting on its way again, but instead the bus continued to idle roughly at the stop.

She finished squeezing her way past a guy wearing one of those jackets that let you shove a carry-on's worth of crap into the pockets, and looked out the rear window as she dropped onto the backseat.

Sarah scanned up the block. Helena was running away at full speed, and Casey was giving chase. He could try, but Sarah couldn't see him catching up to Helena, any more than Casey could chase _her_ down with that kind of a lead.

Chuck, though, Chuck was _right there_ , so close Sarah felt like she could almost reach out and touch him. Or push him away.

Sarah didn't have the heart–or the room–to dive out of sight.

Chuck saw her, and he called out, his plaintive hurt audible even from behind a thick pane of glass and over the rumbling of the bus.

"Wait! Where are you going?!"


	11. Chuck Vs. The Six Pack, Part 11

§§§§§§

"We've got to split up—I'm sorry, it's safer for you," Sarah called out.

Even through the glass, Chuck swore he could hear her voice breaking, wiping away the nagging doubt that said she still didn't quite trust him to handle her problems despite everything they'd been through together.

She didn't  _doubt_  him. She was  _protecting_  him, at her own expense.

The engines of the bus belched as it kicked into gear and continued on its way.

What was he doing, standing here watching the bus pull away and take his wife with it? But Chuck couldn't seem to make his legs work.

§§§§§§

"I need you to stay safe for me. Please just stay safe!"

Chuck was standing there, motionless, stricken, staring after her. Then Casey dashed into her view, grabbing Chuck from behind, tugging at the back of his jacket.

"Shouldn't wait here! Come on. Come on!" Casey belted out. He must've come back when he realized he wasn't going to be able to  intercept Helena on his own.

Chuck sprang back to life and Sarah watched as he and Casey turned to run after Helena, who was just visible in the distance, only recognizable from the ripples in the crowds parting to make way for the armed woman. Helena had sprinted across the street, and was past the hotel now.

Chuck and Casey weren't going to get the  _opportunity_  to make the mistake of cornering her, thank god.

Sarah turned back to face the bus' direction of travel. She had just enough time between here and her destination to steel herself for whatever Ryker had in store for her.

And to think how her life with Chuck was about to change, if she made it out of this alive.


	12. Chuck Vs. The Six Pack, Part 12

§§§§§§

For a supposedly abandoned great house in the dead of winter, this mansion was awfully  _hot_. Between the stifling heat and the possible concussion Ryker had just given her, Sarah was feeling muddled and a little sleepy. But she couldn't afford to let her focus go cloudy.

This room where Ryker had gotten the drop on her and trussed her up—with old bedsheets, welcome to amateur hour—was especially hot and stuffy, and the collective reek off Ryker and his gang put the "gamer funk" after any of the Buy More's parties to shame.

This lot stank of lousy coffee and cheap cigarettes. Except Ryker. He smelled like a mix of stale beer, hard liquor, and flop sweat.

Sarah wasn't too impressed so far. Sure, Ryker had smacked her around a little, but he'd spent as much or more time thinking out loud and trying to get a rise out of her.

Ryker seemed to have forgotten the CIA's lessons about not giving away more information to the subject of your interrogation than you got out of them yourself. Assuming he'd ever learned them in the first place.

He looked like hell, a world away from the high-end car salesman look he used to work before he'd gotten himself burned. Ryker also looked like he didn't sleep well in general ( _good_ ), and maybe hadn't slept at  _all_  since Shaw had contacted him ( _not that she had either_ ). Sarah doubted whether he'd as much as left Hungary in the past five years.

Brought to mind her dad's old adage about the difference between thieves and con men: a good con man could leave whenever he wanted. But for Ryker the thief, he'd gotten trapped by his own greed.

"Agents like you are a dime a dozen. You think you're too damn smart for everyone else and it comes back to bite you in the ass every time," Ryker drawled.  _Or slurred._

Sarah could think of a dozen retorts, but no reason to take the easy shot and give Ryker what he wanted, which was to get her talking.

The longer Sarah could keep Ryker focused on her, though, and how much he blamed her for his current _lifestyle_ , the more time she was buying. The greater chance he'd slip up and do something stupid, like storm off and leave her in the care of one of his goons, none of whom looked particularly fit or well-paid. The local demand for mercenaries must've really dried up since the demise of Volkoff Industries, if hired muscle was willing to work on _contingency_ these days.

Time for a little percussive maintenance, as Chuck might put it.

So she reared her head back and butted it straight into Ryker's smug face, the blow landing with a satisfying crack.

She probably should've bitten him for the sake of poetic justice, but biting people was more Helena's style, and frankly, she didn't want to risk catching anything off him.

" _Son of a bitch!_ " Ryker yelled, grabbing his nose.

Sarah could see one of Ryker's henchmen fiddling with his gun, but he didn't seem too terribly upset on Ryker's behalf.

"How could  _you_  be that important?" Ryker spat, as he started trying to walk it off, "What, you break some poor little oligarch's heart? 'S that why cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs is running around wearing your face?"

Fixating on her was one thing—fixating on Helena was something else entirely, a direction she couldn't afford for Ryker to go in for too long.

"Crazy as a bag of cats," Ryker continued, as he brought the gun to bear on Sarah, up against her chest just under the collarbone, "but she got the job done. Got you here, no questions asked, and all on your lonesome."

"Yeah, someone musta paid a pretty penny to make her look just like ya. But she opens her mouth and it's a dead damn giveaway."  


_Oh thank God._

Sarah hoped she looked more like she was fighting unconsciousness than showing her relief.

"Then again, I don't imagine whoever paid that tab was much interested in hearing you  _talk_ , was he, sweetheart?" Ryker leered.

Helena was right about one thing: Ryker  _was_  a pig.


	13. Chuck Vs. The Six Pack, Part 13

§§§§§§

Sarah stared back at Ryker, refusing to be baited. 

After a moment or two of thick silence, she could see Ryker's expression shift as he decided he'd come up against a dead end. He looked her over, and then a creepy little half-smile dropped down like a bat from the rafters and settled on his face.

"Haven't you ever wondered, Walker, how the hell it ended up being you who got _involved_ in this to begin with? Why you're _sitting_ here now?"

_Not particularly._ She might not know how—or if—she was going to get out of this, but she wouldn't trade a single moment of that child's life to gain her own freedom.

"I asked for someone who wasn't on a team, and Graham sent _you_ here. I wondered why Graham was sending me some girl, but I didn’t have to wonder long. Because your file _screamed_ loner."

It would be nice to believe Graham'd had some inkling of what Ryker was up to, and trusted Sarah to handle a situation that might've tempted others to hand over the baby in exchange for a cut of the proceeds, but it was really down to timing and circumstance. Strange to think that Bryce might've been as responsible for saving that tiny girl as she was.

"You had no family to speak of, never trusted anyone. How you flyin’ these days, Walker? You got anyone who’d care that you’re missing, or worse?"

If Ryker seriously didn't know, if he really thought she had nothing and no-one... maybe his contacts weren't as good as she'd thought.

Maybe Shaw's sick glee when he'd asked if Chuck knew about the baby meant he'd thought Ryker had knocked her up and she'd given the child away, or something else equally repulsive but utterly mundane.

_Maybe they **all** had a chance._

"You're asking the wrong question," Sarah finally replied, with as cocky a smirk as she could muster at the moment.

"Didn't think so," Ryker sneered, as he grabbed her by the hair and slammed her head back into the bars of the rusting crib behind her.

Good thing she was up to date on her tetanus shots.[  
](http://principia-coh.tumblr.com/tagged/tv%3A-chuck)


	14. Chuck Vs. The Six Pack, Part 14

§§§§§§

Ryker let go of her hair with a final short, frustrated yank, and swung his gun back to her chest, any trace of a smile gone.

"Which means it doesn't really matter why I brought you to Budapest in the first place. That's why you're gonna die today, Sarah Walker."

No, the reason she was going to die today was her own fault, not Graham's or anyone else's. She _had_ a team. She had a _husband_. What the hell was _wrong_ with her?

Sarah had a fleeting thought of making some Casey-style show of bravado, practically dare Ryker to shoot her, but Sarah was afraid in Ryker's current condition, he just might.

"Unless you tell me something," he continued, in a patronizing tone. "Where's the little girl?"

Sarah felt waves of relief wash over her, the edge from her adrenalin quickly receding. She knew it. She _knew_ it.

"Shaw told me she's still alive," Ryker added portentously, as if that was going to be a _surprise_. What did he think this was, a social call?

Sarah could barely keep from laughing in Ryker's face. _Grass is green, the sun rises in the East, and oh, by the way, the woman who kept you from murdering that infant didn't take the child so she could kill her instead, you jackass._

"What?" he asked tersely.  


Ryker didn't know a goddamned thing.


	15. Chuck Vs. The Six Pack, Part 15

§§§§§§

Sarah licked her parched lips.

"You don't know where she is," she said, not even caring that she was smiling, "And you're never gonna find out."

Ryker didn't have anything but the scrap Shaw had handed to him on a silver platter. If Ryker didn't keep her alive, there was no chance he'd ever see a _forint_ of his blood money.

"That's what brought me here. Not your dog and pony show. 'S all I needed to know."  


Ryker looked ready to spit nails. He was probably trying to calculate what he could do to a veteran CIA agent to get the information he needed without attracting way too much attention to this supposedly empty _kastély_ , and coming up short.  


Just then, one of Ryker's local hires came stomping in, barking in Hungarian "Sir! There is a problem outside!"

It would be too much to hope for the cavalry. Not now. Not when she'd begged Chuck to keep himself safe, but he and Casey had gone chasing after Helena anyway. Who knew what kind of chaos she'd left in her wake for them to help clean up?

Ryker reared back, telegraphing his swing. His hand flew towards Sarah's face, heavy pistol still in his hand. 

_You flinch, you get two._

Ryker's weighted fist connected with her face, and Sarah let the momentum carry her sideways. She didn't seem to have the strength to shake Ryker off as he grabbed her by the hair again and growled in her face. "I'm not through with you."

Then as fast as he'd yanked her backwards, he tossed her head back down in disgust, yelling in frustration. "I don't have _time_ for this!"

Sarah felt that last blow fraying the edges of her consciousness as Ryker stomped off, snapping at his goons. "Stay with her! You two, come with me."

She could just make out the faint sounds of what Chuck might call a ruckus happening somewhere in the middle distance, maybe inside the mansion, maybe outside in the courtyard. _Chuck._


	16. Chuck Vs. The Six Pack, Part 16

§§§§§§

Chuck frowned in concentration. He and Casey were hustling through the halls of this frustratingly huge mansion-castle thing, as fast as they could go without getting caught. Chuck wished they hadn't had to split their attention between chasing down Sarah's impersonator and finding Sarah, but throwing them a living red herring had probably been Ryker's general idea in the first place.

Their pursuit of Helena hadn't lasted long. Budapest was apparently one of the few major cities Casey hadn't spent a chunk of time in during his career, so Sarah's would-be sister had quickly lost them on the unfamiliar streets of the capital. Naturally, Chuck was as curious as an entire litter of _really_ nosy kittens about what the story was there, but he couldn't waste any time now pondering the mystery of Helena's existence. Not until they got Sarah back. Protecting her would always come first.

Instead of burning any more time trying to find Helena, Chuck and Casey had gone back to the café to track down the "waiter" who'd slipped Sarah the note in the first place. Lucky for them, he had either been under orders to stay in place, or simply hadn't had the good sense to leave while the coast was clear. After a brief incident with a local shop owner and a Hungarian phrasebook that'd been one step short of "my hovercraft is full of eels," Casey had put the fear of, well, _Casey_ into the guy, and they'd pretty much squeezed him dry of what little information he had before knocking him out and dropping him off near a local police station.  


The urban explorer’s blog that Chuck had dug up on the way here was definitely helping, but a parade of hastily-taken, poorly-lit snapshots didn’t convey the scale of this creepy place.

The confusing layout had helped them ditch some of Ryker's crew, who didn't seem any more familiar with the location than Chuck and Casey had been _before_ he found the blog. It wasn't much of a lead, but Chuck would take whatever he could get right now.  


He was keeping an eye and ear out for any signs that his and Casey’s ruse in the courtyard  _hadn’t_ delayed Ryker and his goons as long as it would take to find Sarah. Chuck was also trying to muffle the persistent, frantic voice that had been chanting in the back of his mind this entire time, telling him that they’d been too slow, were already too late.

Chuck heard some indistinct chatter coming from ahead of them, not behind. _Finally._

As they drew close enough to pinpoint the source of the sound, Casey put a hand out in front of Chuck and gestured in the direction of the door, signaling that he was going in first.

The brief thought that if these guys weren’t guarding Sarah, odds were they’d need the guards alive popped into Chuck’s head, but before he could say anything, Casey had moved swiftly through the door and fired two quick shots. Casey was using a suppressor, but as the man himself had once said of the FBI, _they’re dumb, not **deaf**_. They couldn’t have much time.

Chuck dashed into the room, and there she was, right in front of him.

And unmoving.

“ _Sarah! Sarah, baby, are you okay?_ ”

Still no reaction, but she was breathing, the angle her head was at was a natural slump, and the blood splattered on her shirt was minimal.

“Sure this is her?” Casey grumbled.

“Casey, I know my wife,” Chuck hissed as he worked at the knots trussing her to this chair.

Casey's crack aside, Chuck would have to leave that particular pot to boil for a later time. They needed to get out of here.  


_Bedsheets._ And these bastards were supposed to be professionals.

Chuck finished with the knot on his side and took his tranq out of the back of his jeans, putting Casey’s gun in its place as Casey passed over his gun and then carefully hoisted Sarah over his shoulder. Chuck reassured himself with a brief brush of his fingers across Sarah’s back, and then they were on the move again, Chuck taking point.

He hoped taking the same out the urbexers had used to get away undetected would work. If not… the weight of Casey’s P226 was a comfort in a way Chuck didn’t want to think about too much right now.


	17. Chuck Vs. The Six Pack, Part 17

§§§§§§

Sarah felt herself coming awake slowly and leisurely, as if her body was telling her she didn't need to be on her guard anymore. She was astonished at how at ease she felt, until she registered that her face and hands felt like they’d been washed by someone who cared enough to be delicate, and the way she’d been cocooned in cozy softness. She was wearing her favorite floofy sweater, the blanket she loved to cuddle under with Chuck when they were watching TV was draped over her, and her head was resting on Chuck’s pillow, his comforting scent filling her with warmth. No wonder she’d woken up feeling boneless and rested. She was back in Echo Park. She was home.

The only thing missing was her six-foot-four personal hot water bottle to snuggle up against.

Speaking of, Sarah heard clattering nearby and the soft shuffle of Chuck moving around in quiet mode. He hadn’t gone far.

She had a vague, fleeting memory of his face close to hers as he peered at her, his big, beautiful brown eyes clouded with worry, while Casey spoke softly with someone in the background. Then she’d faded out again.

Sarah lifted her head from her pillow, just enough to gaze half-lidded across the room at her husband puttering around in their closet. She didn’t let out a huff or a sigh, but Chuck didn’t miss a thing.

“You’re up! Feelin’ better?” Chuck asked, a little too casually for the moment of shock that passed across his features when he saw that she was awake.

Sarah didn’t miss the residual tension in Chuck’s posture, and pushed herself up onto her elbow so she could see him better—and more importantly, so he could see her be strong enough to move herself under her own power.

“Yeah,” she replied.

“Been keepin’ busy, you need the rest,” Chuck explained, gesturing a little awkwardly around him. Sarah wondered how long she'd been out and whether they’d be able to eat off the floor in the kitchen and dining room at this rate.

“Chuck? Thank you,” she sighed. What else could she say?

Especially when his face lit up like that.

“For saving you from Ryker, or fending off your obsessed doppelgänger?” Chuck answered, in his jokey-to-cloak-an-impending-freakout way. “L’il scifi, but, hey, had a computer in my head for four years, so…”

Sarah smiled softly at his rambling, that little nervous habit he had of licking his lips before he got going on an important or uncomfortable subject. Whatever the conversation they needed to have might bring, it was good to be home.


	18. Chuck Vs. The Six Pack, Part 18

§§§§§§

Chuck saw the gentle smile on Sarah’s face, and felt relief wash over him. She was smiling even with her exhaustion and the way shiners like the one she was currently sporting on her left cheek stung every time your face moved. He'd done his best to keep it iced down during their long trip back to L.A., but even private charters didn't keep a stock of raw hamburger to dole out to passengers.

Sarah was looking at him so adoringly, he almost didn’t want to break the spell. He knew if he went over to that bed and started giving her the Marion-and-Indy-on-the-ship treatment (minus walloping her with a mirror), he could put this off until she was a little stronger.

Or  _he_  was.

But they needed to talk. It wouldn't help either of them if he chickened out.

"Uh, Sarah, look..." Chuck started, before hesitating.

Chuck didn't want this to feel like some kind of a  _lecture_  he was doling out to Sarah, like Ellie would've had A Talk _at_  him back in the day, after he and Morgan had pulled one spectacular feat of preteen dumbassery or another. 

Sarah's chair from her desk. Close the distance and let her know this wasn't going to be some long-winded version of  _I told you so_.

Okay, maybe it was, but this wasn't about racking up spots on a high score board. This wasn't that kind of marriage, and they weren't that kind of people.

"You, you know that I’m, I’m not the kinda guy who says things like this," Chuck began again, as Sarah sat up straight and scootched towards him on the bed.

"But, whatever it is you thought that you needed to hide, and it’s rough stuff, I, I get that, not telling me the truth, going out on your own like that," he continued—

Sarah already had this slightly nauseated look on her face, hadn't even asked him to crack her neck when she obviously could use it. But he needed to keep going.


	19. Chuck Vs. The Six Pack, Part 19

§§§§§§

Sarah could see how thoughtfully Chuck was weighing his every word. He kept avoiding her gaze, like he was afraid of how she was going to react once he'd had his say.

Whatever it was, she was sure she'd earned every bit of it.

"I think it was a..."

_Here it comes._

"...a mistake."

Sarah let out the breath she'd been holding, and inhaled deeply. Of course lashing out at her was the furthest thing from Chuck's heart and mind.

"I think that you were wrong."

Chuck paused and swallowed thickly, like he was expecting her to flip out the way she had a few times during their engagement.

Absolutely not. Chuck deserved better than that, even if the confrontations afterward had been learning experiences for them both. 

"You're right," Sarah admitted, with a rueful smile. "If anyone could handle this, it would be you."

Chuck could handle anything. She just wasn't sure if _she_ could.


	20. Chuck Vs. The Six Pack, Part 20

§§§§§§

"When Ryker captured me in Budapest, I kept thinking, 'Why do I feel like I have to do everything on my own?'”

Chuck felt ashamed for thinking Sarah would bawl him out for being honest with her. She wasn’t angry with him, not even annoyed. She was frustrated with _herself_.

"It's what my dad taught me, it's the way the CIA taught me, that you can only ever trust yourself."

_The gift that keeps on giving. Thanks, Jack._

When Chuck had first met Sarah's dad, Jack had tried to play her isolated, lonely childhood off like it was a wacky TGIF sitcom ( _...up next after **Family Matters** , it's **Raising Change**!_ ), but Chuck knew she'd had no Ellie or even a Bolonia in her life to give her stability or positive influences. And then the CIA had probably done as much _to_ Sarah as it had ever done for her.

Sarah was used to always being someone else's means to an end, and that had given her a set of coping mechanisms that were difficult for her to get past. Not like Chuck didn't have his own hangups and diehard habits to overcome, but sometimes it felt like she had never been valued as a person _at all_ before they'd met. Sarah had come _so far_ from the person she’d been in the years before she'd come into Chuck's life, and she worked _hard_ every day on becoming the person she wanted to be. 

Chuck was grateful to have had the privilege of sharing the process with Sarah, growing pains and all, and was looking forward to continuing it with her for what would be a long, long time if either of them had anything to say about it.

§§§§§§

Sarah knew she should be used to how intently Chuck always listened to her by now, but she doubted that facet of Chuck's personality would ever get old. He considered every word she had to say as seriously as she did, never mistook her emotional honesty for manipulation, or took it for granted. Not even back in the days when it must have seemed like getting Sarah Walker to open up was like trying to get blood out of a stone.

Chuck wouldn't throw the truth back in her face. He _wouldn't_. She could do this.

"But the truth is, that I trust you _completely_. I wanna tell you _everything_."


	21. Chuck Vs. The Six Pack, Part 21

§§§§§§

“This all started, well, started for _me_ anyway, the day my dad got arrested.”

Chuck's eyebrows went up slowly. He was sure Sarah could see him roll his lips inward to keep himself from saying anything. He knew Jack Burton's record, pretty much chapter and verse.

“Not _an_ arrest,” Sarah said, her mouth quirking, “ _The_ arrest. The big one. The feds.”

Chuck nodded, solemn. Whether they walked out the door or got taken from you, it never got any easier.

“I was getting home a little late because orchestra practice ran over,” Sarah continued.

Chuck tried not to let himself get distracted with the questions that popped into his mind and the images those conjured up, but he set them aside with an awkward, stiff _I'll save it for later_ nod.

“I got maybe a block from our place and could see the throw from lightbars off the curbs. We lived on one of the flatter roads in the area, so I thought for a second maybe some of the locals had gotten busted for drag-racing along there again, but even the most obnoxious of those crews usually had better sense than to do it in broad daylight,” Sarah said, rolling her eyes.

“A little closer, I realized that they were all in front of the house. I was able to pull up almost right across the street, and the place was _swarming_. ATF, county sheriffs, FBI, you name it, pretty much every flavor of law enforcement I could think of. You’ve been at enough scenes, Chuck, you know there’d normally be a perimeter, and the road should’ve been blocked off. I wasn’t thinking about why the ATF, of all agencies, would be there. I was just... COPS. HOUSE. COPS,” Sarah added, punctuating each of her last words with a shocked gesture.

Chuck winced in sympathy.

“No sirens running, no roadblock, no SWAT vans—maybe they were waiting for my Dad. After about two seconds I realized that probably wasn’t true—any idiot could see the damn cops swarming all over the place. This wasn’t exactly an ambush in the making. I sat there watching them pick around the bushes, and talking into their radios. Maybe they’d gotten sick of waiting for him, or were busy convincing some judge to issue a no-knock.”

Chuck frowned. If this had been anyone else back in school, Morgan, he’d have thought they were watching way too many police procedurals. But with Sarah… he sighed heavily.

“He was there alright. I didn’t have to wait long before they were hauling Dad out the front door in cuffs, so I had the _treat_ of watching them bundle my dad into a county car and drive him away. So if they already had him, why no roadblock to keep people away from the scene? Then I got it. They had to be waiting for _me_. Family equals leverage, especially kids. If they wanted something specific out of my dad, a confession, rolling over on a partner, it’d all be a lot easier if they had me to dangle over his head, even if they knew I wasn’t involved and there was nothing to _legitimately_ charge me with.”

Then Sarah stalled out, looking painfully nervous.

He genuinely had no idea where she was going with this, but Chuck could see her wheels turning as she worked her way up to telling him her “everything.”

Sarah frowned, looking down at her hands, then back to him, then back to her hands. She let out a frustrated hmph.

“However you need to get there, baby.”  


Chuck smiled softly, and reached forward to give Sarah’s knee a gentle squeeze. After another moment, she continued.

“But involved in what? I couldn’t imagine what Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms wanted with Dad—I mean, you know guns don’t _completely_ freak him out—”

Jack had sure as hell handled getting shot better than Chuck had the first time it had happened to him, and that was _without_ a vest.

“—but he’d never even handled a water pistol around me. I sat there and watched them bring him out and shove him into that car, and I didn’t think about calling a lawyer, or trying to go to a neighbor’s house. I just _fled_.”

“Oh, _Sarah_ ,” Chuck gasped. She couldn’t blame _herself_. He wouldn’t _let_ her.

§§§§§§

Chuck started to rise up out of his chair, looking absolutely crushed for her.

Sarah waved him off. “Oh, honey, no. Trust me, Dad would’ve been the first one to tell me ‘ya did good, kid.’”

Chuck plopped back down in his chair, looking slightly embarrassed.

“He always had at least some kind of half-assed plan for helping me out if he got into real trouble. He’d said that’s why _Jenny_ was conveniently a couple of years older than me, so there wouldn't be any chance I'd get put into foster care if things went sour and he had to take off.”

Chuck wasn’t saying anything, but his eyebrows were expressive enough all by themselves.

“Once I started looking old enough that I could pass for a ‘young adult’,” she continued, making little air quotes with her hands, “Dad had started setting up little caches for me. Nothing too crazy, just enough for me to get away and get situated somewhere else until the coast was clear. Emphasis on little, so far as I knew. Dad hadn’t been pulling any especially big cons for a few years. For some reason he’d decided I deserved to be able to stay in one place long enough to get a real diploma, maybe figure out some scheme to b.s. my way into college.”

A half-smile passed over Chuck’s face, a brief wistful look. Sarah had wondered that sometimes too, what their lives might’ve been like if they’d met back in the day. But she couldn’t afford to get lost in that right now.

“Dad had been doing real work, sort of—he’d bamboozled his way into an office job as some kind of middle management paper shuffler. I didn’t think the job paid quite that well, but since he’d stopped actively pulling me into any of his scams, I didn’t ask. To be honest, I felt like I had too much going on at school, and I didn’t want to get sucked into any _extra_ drama. Besides, can’t spill the beans when you don’t even know where the cans are.”

_Yet another famous saying from the book of Jack Burton._

“After I got finished trying not to freak out and draw attention to myself, I bolted, left the Rabbit behind,” Sarah continued, “Dad'd told me where he'd stashed some money for me in Hoyt Park, just a couple of blocks away from the house. Close enough to get there on foot, but not the _closest_ park, so the cops might not think to look there right away, either for me or for evidence.

Dad hadn’t even buried the money for real, he'd left it sitting in a taped-up cash box under a pile of dead leaves and bark, just off the trail behind this tree that had taken a lightning hit a few years back.

I dug out the box, and it was way, way, _way_ more money than we had ever discussed, but before I could start to think about why that was, I heard this rustling behind me.”

Chuck leaned forward on his seat.

“All I had was the clothes on my back and some stupid, crappy camp knife I kept locked in the glove compartment for emergencies. And then what do I do? Get startled and throw the thing at least a dozen yards away from me and bury it in a _tree_ ,” Sarah admitted with a groan.

Chuck stretched out again, this time to settle a hand on hers reassuringly. 

“I'd guess what startled you wasn't a lucky squirrel,” he said, his voice warm and calm.


	22. Chuck Vs. The Six Pack, Part 22

§§§§§§

“No. _It_ was Langston Graham. He ducked back, like he wanted me to think I actually had a chance in hell of hitting him. I guess not having the thing ricochet off the tree and into his leg counted as good for someone my age. Told me it was a nice toss and pulled the knife out of the tree.”

~~~

_Whew._

~~~

Chuck couldn’t hide his shock. Like… Director Graham. Director Graham _in person_. That seemed totally _un_ like the man as Chuck had known him. Sort of. Known of him, from several thousand miles away, through a screen.

Sarah, though, had always seemed to like him, or at least trust his judgment. Casey, not so much. Guess it was harder to get over that CIA-NSA rivalry for some people than others.

Sarah gave him an understanding look. “Trust me, if I’d had any idea who he was, I’d have known enough to be terrified. As it was, I wasn’t exactly happy to see him. This guy didn’t look or act much like a cop—he hadn’t pulled a gun on me, for starters. He had a lapel pin with some government logo I didn’t recognize, so _that_ might’ve been complete crap, part of a shtick. His suit was tailored, so I figured he couldn’t be CBI or FBI, at the very least. Might’ve been one of Dad’s ‘partners’ who decided to come sniffing around once word of his arrest hit the police scanners. Heck, he could’ve been the one who ratted Dad out.”

“Ratted Jack out? Don’t you mean set him up?” Chuck asked drily.

“Setting him up would imply my father hadn’t _done_ anything to deserve getting arrested, Chuck. He wasn’t running moonshine or grey market cigarettes or guns, but the statute of limitations hadn’t run out on pretty much any of the scams he’d ever run while I was around, and I had no way of knowing what he’d gotten up to back when he used to drop me off with Patricia.”

Chuck didn’t need to dredge back up how Sarah had described the situation there, a story she’d partially told him after the last time Jack had been around. Jack’s former step-something had taken Sarah in out of a sense of obligation; she’d been dutiful, precise, and had forbidden Sarah from referring to her by anything more affectionate than her full given name. About as open as an oyster, and twice as tough as the shell.

“Or... he’d gotten sloppy and gotten caught because he was out of practice. Either way, the cops had my dad, this suit had my knife now, and I was panicking. If the feds hadn’t figured out something to pin on me already, something they could use to get whatever the hell they wanted from Dad, here I was with all this money and no way to account for having it. But the guy didn’t flash any kind of ID, just stood there looking at me. So I decided he had to be one of Dad’s partners, or maybe private security from the place he’d been ‘working’ for, or both. And that made me _so_ angry. If this creep thought he was gonna put the squeeze on me, as far as I was concerned he could kiss my ass.”

§§§§§§

Chuck’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head, and he snorted, shaking his head in astonishment. “Wow.”

“Yeah, _wow_ ,” Sarah agreed.”I sucked it up, asked him who he was, and he flat out _told me_ he was the man who put my father in prison.” 

Sarah still wasn’t sure how Graham had expected her to react to that.

“But then he asked me who _I_ was.”

~~~

_Who are you?_

_I’m the man who put your father in prison. The question is… who are_ you _?_

~~~

“Me. Scraggly little Jenny Burton, I thought, with almost no friends and no personal ties to anyone besides Dad that weren’t a complete fiction. Who the hell cares about _me_?”


	23. Chuck Vs. The Six Pack, Part 23

§§§§§§

“He started rattling off this list of names I _went by_ ,” Sarah said, her voice growing increasingly sharp, “Jenny Burton in San Diego, Katie O’Connell from Wisconsin, Rebecca Franko from Cleveland… and he knew _none_ of those were my birth name.”

Chuck’s brow creased. He was trying to let her tell her story, but his head was practically howling at him to puzzle out the significance of what she was saying.

~~~

_In San Diego, you go by_ Jenny Burton _… In Wisconsin, it’s_ Katie O’Connell _… Cleveland, it’s_ Rebecca Franko _? Funny thing is, when I looked at your birth certificate, it said you…”_

_“I get your point. Whadda you want?”_

~~~

“I didn’t get his point, not _really_. Chuck, we never lived in Wisconsin.”

_So, what, some kind of insurance scam, or identity theft?_

“The closest we ever came to Cleveland was Dad promising me a trip to the Rock n’ Roll Hall of Fame,” Sarah replied, deflecting the question in his eyes, “but he got sidetracked by one of his famous _leads_ and we never went there.”

Or maybe Jack’s disappearances had been for a completely different flavor of con than Sarah expected. Chuck felt a wave of indignant irritation on Sarah’s behalf, though he didn’t think it would have been literal bigamy, given how early Jack and Sarah’s mother seemed to have split up. 

Disappearing in one place could have meant Jack was _re_ appearing somewhere or somewheres else—though keeping a fourth family halfway across the world would’ve been a stretch, even for someone who liked to _challenge_ himself as much as Jack Burton.

Chuck felt vaguely disloyal and kinda icky for thinking such things about his father-in-law, but it would explain a lot.


	24. Chuck Vs. The Six Pack, Part 24

§§§§§§

~~~

_“Your father scammed some pretty dangerous people. I put him in jail to save his life.”_

_“Well, don’t expect a thank you note.”_

_“I can save your life too.”_

~~~

“He told me that Dad had scammed some pretty dangerous people.”

Chuck looked away for a moment, pursing his lips in bemusement—until he caught Sarah’s grim expression.

“Not exactly uncharacteristic of my father, I know, but you have no idea.” Sarah said, her voice tight, radiating tension. “Graham said he'd saved Dad’s life by putting him in jail. As far as I was concerned it might as well have been the end of the line for both of us.” 

Sarah cleared her throat. 

“I was furious with Dad. If he’d been pulling something that risky, he should’ve _told_ me and let me _help_ him. This ‘office job’ he’d been working _obviously_ had to be fictional. Instead of… thanking Director Graham, I bit his head off. 

Graham stood there looking at me like I was some kind of exotic creature inside a cage at the zoo. I guess he could afford to be patient with me, since he was holding all the cards. He told me he could save _my_ life too.”

Chuck sat up straight, taken aback. Seeing an adult Sarah who'd _willingly_ gone into chains had almost shattered him. The thought of a teenaged Sarah being dragged off to jail alone, with no-one on her side, was almost too bleak to contemplate.

“You got it," Sarah said brittlely, "as far as the law would be concerned, _Jenny Burton_ was 18 years old, fully chargeable as an adult. I thought I was going to prison, right alongside Dad, when he hadn't even made me his cute sidekick.”


	25. Chuck Vs. The Six Pack, Part 25

§§§§§§

"This wasn’t going to be some traffic ticket or shoplifting charge I could sniffle my way out of. It didn’t seem like he was giving me much of a choice, so I thought I might as well get it over with," Sarah continued breathlessly, "No reason to give the uniforms an excuse to rough me up. I offered up my hands so he could cuff me, not that I was letting go of that _stupid_ cash box unless he pried it out of my arms."

Sarah paused, taking a moment to calm herself down.

"Instead, he told me _no_ ," she said, sounding like she almost couldn't believe it even now.

"He looked like he might genuinely give a crap about what happened to me. Whether he thought I was useful, or saw something that reminded him of himself when he was my age, I didn't ask him then, or ever. Somehow I never got around to it.. Or maybe I didn't want to hear the answer."

~~~  


_No._

_Not that way._

_Your dad trained you pretty well._

_CIA can do even better._

~~~

"He actually complimented Dad on how well he’d trained me, and _then_ he dropped the three-letter bomb. _The CIA_ could do even better."


	26. Chuck Vs. The Six Pack, Part 26

§§§§§§

“He gave me my knife back. And a new name, Sarah Walker. Not quite so far off as Jenny. 

Or Sam.”

And there it was. 

Chuck had never asked her, of course he hadn’t, the same way he hadn’t asked the question most men would’ve put to her when she’d been perched on his kitchen step, watching him in his boxers and silly “Faux Paw” t-shirt, fumbling for the right words past Casey’s rotgut of choice and twice as much heartbreak.

She’d never really said. 

She owed him that much, especially considering... 

Besides, she looked and felt about as much like a Samantha as she did like a Douglas.

Chuck didn’t say anything, he didn’t have to. His eyes went huge and luminous, and he let out a long, slow breath. One, it seemed, that he’d been holding for two long years.

§§§§§§

Chuck couldn’t help letting out a damp laugh. He felt unexpected relief, like Sarah had pried something loose inside him he hadn't even thought was still trapped there, but somehow he wasn’t _surprised_. Maybe he’d always known.

Sarah’s smile was kind, a little misty, and she nodded vigorously. Chuck knew if he gave in to what he wanted to do right now, she wouldn’t be finishing her story until the next morning. 

Even past that smile he loved so much, though, Chuck could see that she wasn’t telling him now because she’d decided it was appropriate timing, between the Christmas that almost wasn’t and their harrowing mission to Budapest, both thanks to Shaw. 

Sarah was telling him now because she thought she might not have another chance to.

Why would she think that? But evidently she did, and the last thing Chuck wanted to do was to put more doubts into Sarah’s head.

The words _panic_ and _Sarah_ had never been associated for him before now, not unless he was thinking about one of his own more regrettable moments. So he went for giving her a goofy fist bump and an encouraging grin.

That seemed to bring Sarah out of her mini-funk, and she rubbed her hands on her thighs, inhaling deeply before continuing.

“ _His_ way, I could put my talents to better use than three-card monte and bush league flim-flams.”

“Flim-flams?” Chuck asked, teasing her gently.

Sarah narrowed her eyes at him in mock irritation.

“Sorry.”

“CIA,” she said, making half a shrug with one arm. “Jail,” she added, finishing out the shrug with the other arm.

She rolled her shoulders, her mouth falling into a soft pout. “All I could think about was some _Nikita_ nonsense, like I was going to get put through some lady spy finishing school and yay, brand new me.”

Chuck’s train of thought stopped in its tracks.

“I know, I know. Sarah Walker watches a culturally-relevant movie, the Pope turns out to be a flying carpet salesman from Mars. I watched it for extra credit in French class.”

“Ahhhh,” Chuck intoned, giving her an ‘okay’ sign.

“But you know as well as anyone you can’t run away from yourself, no matter how appealing that seems. Especially if you don’t understand why you’re running.

That already was my life, though, what I was used to.

I guess Dad did an even better job training me than Langston thought.”


	27. Chuck Vs. The Six Pack, Part 27

§§§§§§

“Deputy Director Graham took me very much  _under his wing_ ,” Sarah snorted. “It sounds like a cliché, but he really did. He pushed hard to see to it that I’d get taken seriously. I was given the best training, got fast-tracked into the best assignments…”

“Kinda the Director’s pet, huh?” Chuck asked mildly.

“I think the only reason I didn’t get accused of that is because people were too afraid of me—and Director Graham—to say it. To my face, at least.

I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, for him to ask me to do something off the books, or that he knew would go against my principles (for what that was worth), or for him to get weird and inappropriate with me. None of those things ever happened.”

Chuck gave her a half-hearted smile.

“I was kept so busy, I stopped thinking much about how I’d ended up in the CIA. I just kept… moving forward,” Sarah continued, making a dashing motion with her hands. 

“Towards the end of when I was with the CAT Squad, though, there were these odd coincidences that started piling up. We’d get reports that one of our field operatives thought they’d seen me somewhere I couldn’t have been, or we’d meet new contacts who swore they already knew me from somewhere.

I’m sure Zondra was dutifully reporting each and every one of these up the chain, and Amy was probably keeping it in her back pocket to use against the rest of us someday. None of it ever seemed remotely connected to Gaez or our other missions, so I guess that’s why the Director’s Office let it slide.

By time we’d all moved on, and I thought better of it, it was too late.”

Chuck’s head tilted; he knew he probably looked like a confused retriever.

“Too late for what?”

“For who, Chuck. _Whom_.”

Chuck nodded sagely. “Helena.”

Sarah shook her head, regret etched all over her features as she looked around their bedroom, to her hands, anywhere but to him.

“Rebecca from Cleveland, Katie from Wisconsin—those weren’t extra fake identities Dad had set up for me.”

Sarah finally looked straight into his eyes, with the kind of grim look he’d gotten from her only a few times, at the very start of when she’d been assigned to handle him. A dark, flat look that told him in no uncertain terms to get ready to run—screw the car. Chuck could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

“By the time I found out about, knew who they were, that they were _real_ , they were already dead.”

Chuck stuttered “Wh-wh-what?”

“You know your P.A.N.T.S. box.”

Okay, now he was really confused.

"I have one too, sort of. _Not_ my spy will.”

Chuck’s face lowered. He tried to be subtle about scanning around the room for some clue, without success.

“Don’t, don’t go looking for it now, but I’ll tell you what’s in there,” Sarah sighed. “Copies of certified IDs and passports, travel records, school reports, everything. From places I’ve never lived, of women I’ve never even _pretended_ to be, all of them with my face.”

This couldn’t be some elaborate scam Jack had run from prison, could it? It went too deep, got too detailed, and first and foremost, if Sarah didn’t know about it, all it could do was hurt her. Jack _wouldn’t._

§§§§§§

Speaking of faces, Sarah was watching the color slowly drain from Chuck’s.

“Rebecca Franko was a nurse. Katie—Kathryn—O’Connell, she’d just gotten engaged. Beth was a police officer, Aryanna was a schoolteacher, Danielle worked for the UNHCR, Janika was a car designer, Katja a musician…”

Sarah paused, waiting for Chuck to catch up, come out of his deep think. She needed him to be all here.

He still looked pallid, but he nodded in acknowledgment.

Sarah continued slowly, deliberately. “The reason that we all have—had—the same face, is that we are all copies from the same genetic material.” 

Chuck jolted slightly on his chair, then settled so slackly that one soft puff of her breath would probably be enough to knock him over onto the floor.

§§§§§§

His mouth opened and closed a few times, but nothing came out. Chuck didn’t know what he’d been expecting, some sort of demented version of _The Parent Trap_ , maybe, but she couldn’t _possibly_ mean…

“Did you,” Chuck said, swallowing thickly, “did you just tell me that you’re all  _clones_?”

Sarah gave him a stilted nod.

“ _Clones,_ ” Chuck said slowly.

Sarah nodded, her face turning drawn and somber.

 _Sarah to the Infinite Power!_ Morgan blurted out in Chuck’s head.

An army of perfect little blonde, blue-eyed Sarahs—no, no, Chuck couldn’t let himself go there for even a second. She would see it in his face, and Sarah was already looking at him like she was bracing herself for the ground to open up and swallow her whole. The rate of Sarah’s breath was increasing, and the smile she reached for started off unsteady and almost immediately crumbled.

She was waiting for him to say something, anything, else, and he was just _sitting_ here—“I _love_ you.”

Sarah’s expression flew quickly from distress to enchantment  to agitation, as if she’d felt better, then decided he wasn’t taking this seriously.

“Chuck, I’m not mak—”

“I know, I know, baby, I know you’re not making this up.

If anyone else in the _world_ told me this, if it wasn’t you, I’d think they were yanking my chain. Or in need of serious professional help.

I believe you.”

Sarah’s hands flew to her face for a moment, and she let out a quick, strangled sob, then she lowered her shaking hands to her lap, looking for all the world like she hadn’t been sure he would still be sitting there.

Chuck was _positive_ he wasn’t fully processing Sarah’s revelation right now. If that was what he needed to do so he could help her, so be it. He could unload this particular cargo plane’s worth of baggage later.

Oh no. Oh, God, she’d said _was_. Except for her and Helena, all of the others where already dead. Had they been sick, like Dolly? _Charles Irving Bartowski, you did not just compare your wife to a freaking_ sheep _._

Chuck fumbled forward for Sarah’s hands, his fingers barely grazing hers before she pulled back again, fidgeting.

“You said, you said was. What happened to all of those women? Are _you_ okay?”

Sarah released a short, sharp bark of a laugh. “What happened to them? Rebecca was killed in an ambulance crash, Kathryn and her fiancé drowned on their mini-moon. Beth…

Beth killed herself. Or slipped in front of a commuter train and fell on the tracks, depending on who you believe.

Four, four of the others, the ones from Europe… 

Helena murdered them.”

“ _What._ ”  


There was absolutely no way Chuck and Casey would’ve let her go if they’d known. Especially not Casey. They could’ve figured out someone to sic on her, at the very least.

“She thinks there’s something special, something different about her. The rest of us are all _demons_ or some such delusional nonsense.”

“Then why, why didn’t she, um…”

“Try to kill me? Oh, she has, before. This time, in Budapest? I don’t know what’s changed. She almost seemed contrite, at least as far as I was concerned. Maybe she knows how alike we are, Helena and me. The killers.”

“Sarah, baby, Sarah, no. You’re nothing like her.”

“How am I not like her? She killed them because she was convinced they were evil, and she was able to do that because I didn’t care enough to find out they _existed_.”

“Sarah, those women’s deaths are _not your fault_.”

“I wasn’t even the first of us to figure it out on her own, Chuck. A _civilian_ did. Under her own steam, no big special connections, just a regular person.”

“I doubt there are any of you who were—are— _just_ anything, Sarah.”

Chuck gave Sarah what he hoped was a smile good enough to reassure her.

Then he let his concern show through.  


“Who, who did this? Why would they do this?”

Chuck wished he could be more articulate, but he couldn’t think of a way to be more exact without sounding clinical.

Sarah’s voice lowered to a reluctant whisper as she leaned down towards him.

“They’re called the Dyad Institute.”

She sat back up straight, and looked down, worrying at the hem of her sleeve.

“Why, I—we—still don’t really know. I mean, big, dark money’s got to be part of it, that I’m sure of, but they’re seemingly untouchable. And if they were closing in on me and Dad, then… getting me away, getting me free was the biggest scam Dad ever really pulled off. Free of where I came from. From the _place_ that made me and the other people like me.”

Sarah’s eyes went a little dim, unfocused.

“So your dad, Jack. He’s not your biological father?”

Sarah roused, apparently surprised by the question.

“No, no he’s not.”

“But he took care of you anyway. For varying values of care, I know.”

“Somehow I don’t think he and my mother were ‘supposed’ to be my adoptive parents. He did the best he was capable of, which wasn’t anywhere close to perfect, but… I’m here now. With you.”

Chuck had to smile a little at that. “Yeah.”

“I mean, c’mon, ‘Jack Burton’?”

“I guess it’s better than Han Solo or Rick Blaine.”

“Even _I’ve_ always had a pretty good idea that wasn’t his real name. I still don’t know what it is.”  


“Not even the Intersect did,” Chuck said, remembering the flash he’d had when he saw ‘Jack’ for the first time (and proceeded to make three-quarters of an ass of himself over what he’d seen).  


“It’s safer that way. For everybody.”

Chuck sighed heavily. Now it made complete sense that Jack hadn’t come to see Sarah first thing after getting out of prison. He’d protected Sarah and her secret with his life, or, thank God, not _literally_ with his life, which was evidently the effect from Graham having sent him up the river in the first place.

As for Sarah’s mom, if she’d knowingly given up her husband and the life she’d thought they would share to save Sarah from becoming someone’s lab rat, well, she wasn’t the only parent they knew who’d chosen that route to protect her child (or children). 

Chuck desperately wanted to ask Sarah why she’d never said anything before now, back when he might’ve been able to use the Intersect to help her, but he doubted she’d even have told him _now_ if circumstances hadn’t forced the situation. Chuck wasn’t sure whether he was more unsettled by the thought of flashing on a group into ‘research’ as profoundly unethical and disturbing as this Dyad, or that Sarah might have been frightened about what would have happened if he _had_ flashed on the Dyad Institute. As if they somehow would’ve _known_.

Chuck tried not to shudder.

Would he have been happier if he’d tried to flash and drawn a blank? He’d bet not even Fulcrum’s twisted attempt at an Intersect would’ve had info on this group. Whatever those people had had in mind didn’t matter right now. All that mattered was the woman in front of him.

“You said when Graham found you after he busted Jack—your Dad—he told you he was protecting Jack from some very serious people.”


	28. Chuck Vs. The Six Pack, Part 28

§§§§§§

She’d given him so much to take in, but he was handling this way, way the hell better than she had when she’d first found out what she was, where she’d come from. _Surprise, you’re a Xerox copy. Speaking of which, you’re kinda trademarked too. Ha!_

“The man knew you were probably on the run from Dyad?”

Chuck’s brow was fixed in a perplexed frown, his voice a mix of indignation and completely understandable worry.

“Fourteen years ago? No,” Sarah replied warmly. The question was certainly worth asking. She’d wondered it more than once herself.

She could see Chuck was still trying to work through all of what she’d just told him, to make sure he had it straight in his head before speaking.

“Later on? I’d like to think he’d have said something, given me something if he had. Even if he thought they were just cranks or frauds.”

And there went Chuck’s mind, off to the races again.

Sarah thought back to the few times Director Graham—Langston—had allowed himself to be less at-arm’s-length with her. He’d always treated her with a mixture of equal parts understanding and high expectations. If he’d felt outright pity for her, he’d never shown it. 

§§§§§§

_One day these bastards were going to cross a line even their resources and connections couldn’t pull them back across, and Langston Graham fully intended to be there to take them down when it happened._

_He’d accumulated enough proof about Dyad’s activities to send its board and their cronies in government to prison for several lifetimes._

_Even sitting in the Director’s chair now, spending most of his time moving agents around as if they were pieces in a chess match, and the rest in one meeting after another, he wasn’t guaranteed protection from the consequences of this life._

_If he couldn’t be there to put an end to the Dyad Institute and its_ projects _once and for all, he had someone who could._

_Dyad would never see her coming, or by the time they did, it would be too late._

§§§§§§

“I still feel like I should’ve been able to do  _something_  to protect the others,” Sarah said, exasperated.

Sarah seemed determined to cut off a thick slice of blame for herself, no matter how many times Chuck might object. 

It didn’t mean he wouldn’t keep trying to get through to her.

“Maybe what Graham did for you and your dad was as much as anyone  _could_ do.”

If the millions and millions of dollars Hartley had given them hadn’t driven Sarah to tell Chuck about her situation _then_ , he was almost afraid to know what Sarah thought it would take to face Dyad head-on. Scratch that. He was _definitely_ afraid.

“What was the point if I could barely save myself?” Sarah retorted.  


They both knew all the training and experience in the world couldn’t always protect your family. Chuck didn’t need to remind her. He just needed to be there for her. However they moved on from here, it would be together.

§§§§§§

_He didn’t care for the way the Intersect project was headed. It sounded magnificent on paper, and was going to be a huge feather in the cap of whichever Director presided over its implementation, but Langston still didn’t trust it. Provided the damn thing worked at all, you’d still have to find an agent who could handle the burden of having a computer in their head. They’d have to be a paragon of well-honed instincts, unquestionably trustworthy, and, ultimately, someone the agency could afford to sacrifice if need be._

_So far the agents who’d been angling for the job (some subtly, others with all the grace of a drunk defensive lineman) were agents he wouldn’t even have working for the agency if it were up to him. The collection of adrenaline junkies, showboaters, and blatant ladder-climbers might tempt some higher-ups to use them to break in the technology, but no matter how big a pain in the ass they made of themselves, they deserved better than that._

_That was on the CIA side of the project. The fools lining up at the NSA gave Langston heartburn just thinking about them._

_Though perhaps that was the cabbage roll he’d had during the trip here._

_He most certainly had no intention of wasting his best agents or_ agent _on this unproven technology. He hadn’t saved her nine years ago so she could get her brains scrambled at worst, or at best end up with another giant target on her back. No, she had more important things to accomplish._

_Langston turned a corner and finally saw his target. He felt the small electronic key in the interior pocket of this Tyvek coverall and grimaced. He was nearing the controlled records storage rooms within the Office of Personnel Management’s section of the Iron Mountain storage facility._

_He approached the guard desk, smiling politely, and put down his case of archival documents on the guard’s desk. The first guard dutifully examined the large case while the second scanned “William LeMoyne” in for his shift. Langston signed into the logbook, and waited to get his documents back before ambling off towards the third most-frequently-used of the spaces here._

_If the worst came to pass it was left up to Sarah Walker to face Dyad without him, he intended to provide her with the most intelligence he could._

_He hadn’t decided quite yet which of the few bits of bric-a-brac in his office he would leave to Sarah, to start her on the path that would bring together and unlock the pieces of intel he’d been collecting on Dyad since the mid-nineties. No-one would think twice about passing on a sentimental token from the old man to the agent most people knew was his pet project. They’d all be too busy looking for his spy will._


	29. Chuck Vs. The Six Pack, Part 29

§§§§§§

“None of this is your fault, Sarah,” Chuck said, so tender and painfully earnest that Sarah felt on the verge of crying.

Sarah knew Chuck meant every sweet, reassuring word. He desperately wanted her to come around to his perspective, she knew that, but how could she? Maybe she hadn't created the situation in the first place, but her inaction had allowed harm to come to women who didn't deserve to die any more than she did.

Sarah didn’t want to start rambling for the sake of filling silence. She looked down at her hands again. She shouldn’t fuss with her cuticles, it was a terrible habit, but it was a more dignified alternative to curling up into a ball on the bed.

Chuck ducked down, moving around to at least try to get her to look at him. Sarah glanced up and Chuck pulled a face, looking hopeful for a response.

Sarah didn’t want to talk about herself any more today.

“I’ve been… in contact with a few of the other survivors, my sisters, really,” Sarah said, haltingly. “Not more than a few times, we try to keep to it to emergencies only. Kind of hard to avoid drawing attention to yourselves when you look like refugees from a multiple births convention.”

§§§§§§

Chuck snickered, and Sarah gave him a grateful upturn of the corners of her mouth. A genuine, full smile was probably too much to hope for right now.

“Alison’s a stay-at-home mom. She’s kind of fussy? Particular? I channeled her pretty hard when we were in Meadow Branch," Sarah continued.

“No wonder you were a little spooked afterwards. Everything but the 2.5 kids.”  

“Just two,” Sarah said primly.

“Mmm. I don't know about you, but those terrible Photoshops creeped me out pretty bad," Chuck said, scrunching his nose.

“Augh, you too?” Sarah said, playing along.  


“Are you kidding me? The eyes-following-you-around-the-room thing is bad enough when they’re _not_ supposed to be yours.”

Sarah hooted, a little of her usual spark back in her eyes.

“Then there’s Cosima,” Sarah said, picking back up where she left off, “she’s actually a scientist, a researcher. She’s the first of us who worked all this out.   


Casey would probably call her a _damned hippie_. I think you’d like her.”

“Hmmm, I dunno about that,” Chuck bantered. “Star Wars or Star Trek?”

“Ha ha. I’m _sure_ she’d like you.”

“You flatter me, madam.”

Sarah giggled and rolled her eyes.

It was easier to try to keep this conversation from overwhelming them both, knowing Sarah wasn’t the sole _sane_ survivor. That there were other people who could completely and fully understand what she was going through was a comfort. She would never have to carry this weight on her shoulders alone ever again. Chuck knew what that was like. He wouldn’t wish it on anyone, much less his wife.

Sarah’s merriment faded and her face fell again. At least she was letting him in, allowing him to see how much this was still affecting her.

“You’ve done the best you could. And Ryker believes Helena’s what, surgically altered?”

Reminding her that the trip to Budapest hadn’t been in vain seemed to buoy her spirits. Sarah gave him a real, if petite, smile. 

“Yeah.”

“Good news for your, um, _sisters,_ ” Chuck added encouragingly.

Sarah’s smile went bigger and brighter in return.

“Yeah, now I know that they’re both safe.”


	30. Chuck Vs. The Six Pack, Part 30

§§§§§§

__**SUBJECT:** 324 _ _//__ **BATCH:** 21   //   _ **Alternate Designation:** Niehaus, Cosima  _ _//___ _**Disposition:** Living _ _//__ _ _______**Current Location:**__ Minneapolis, Minnesota, USA _ _//___ _**Date of Birth:** 11/09/82 _ _//___ _**Monitor Status:** ACTIVE _ _//___ _**Monitor:** 97ε_

_• • •_

___**SUBJECT:**__ 289 _ _//__ __**BATCH:**__ 19 _ _//__ __**Alternate Designation:**_ ^^UNKNOWN^^ _ _//__ __ __**Disposition:**_ _^^_ UNKNOWN _^^ _ _//__ __ ___**Current Location:**__ _^^_ UNKNOWN _^^ _ _ _//__ **Date of Birth:** __^^_ UNKNOWN _^^___ _ _//__ __ __**Monitor Status:**_ ^^UNMONITORED^^  _ _//__ _ __**Monitor:**_ __^^__ NOT APPLICABLE _ _^^ _ _//__ ___ __**Time Since Last Contact:**_ +9283 DAYS _ _//__ _ __**Recovery Priority:**_ 12_

_• • •_

____**SUBJECT:**__ 336 _ _//__ __**BATCH:**__ 21 _ _//__ __**Alternate Designation:**_ Hendrix, Alison _ _//__ _**Disposition:**_ Living _ _//__ __**Current Location:**__ Scarborough, Ontario, Canada _ _//__ ___**Date of Birth:**___ 12/04/82 _ _//__ __**Monitor Status:**__ ACTIVE _ _//__ _**Monitor:**_ 34γ_

_• • •_

___**SUBJECT:**__  288 _ _//__ __**BATCH:**__ 19 __//__ ___**Alternate Designation:**_ ^^UNKNOWN^^ _ _//__ ____**Disposition:**_ _^^_ UNKNOWN _^^ _ _//__ ___**Current Location:** _^^_ UNKNOWN _^^ _ _ _ _ _//__ **Date of Birth:** __^^_ UNKNOWN _^^_____ _ _//__ _____**Monitor Status:**__ ^^UNMONITORED^^ _ _//__ __**Monitor:**_ __^^__ NOT APPLICABLE _ _^^ _ _//__ __**Time Since Last Contact:** +10185 DAYS _ _//__ **Recovery Priority:** 7_

§§§§§§

Sarah watched Chuck go gentle, pensive, inward. Then he frowned at himself and shook his head.

“Chuck, what is it?”

Chuck tried to wave her off with a groan of protest.

“Chuck,” Sarah said affectionately, “you can ask me whatever you want.”

Chuck looked sheepishly guilty. His ears went a little red before he _ahem_ ed at her.

“Is it possible there are more of your  _siblings_ still out there?” he asked, a little awkwardly.

As if it were possible to love him even more than she had a moment before.

“You bet, so…”

“So… we shouldn’t finalize that Christmas card list quite yet.”

§§§§§§

__**SUBJECT:** 368 _ _//__ ___**BATCH:**_ 23 _ _//__ _**Alternate Designation:** Duncan, Rachel _ _//__ _**Disposition:**_ Living _ _//__ **Current Location:** Campus 1, Toronto, Ontario, Canada _ _//__ **Date of Birth:** 08/14/83 _ _//__ **Monitor Status:** DIEID DUN9706-X _ _//__ **Monitor:** 61δ_

_• • •_

____**SUBJECT:**__ 359 _ _//__ ___**BATCH:**_ 23 _ _//__ __**Alternate Designation:**_ Fitzsimmons, Jennifer _ _//__ __**Disposition:**__ Living _ _//__ _**Current Location:**_ Campus 1, Toronto, Ontario, Canada _ _//__ _**Date of Birth:**_ 06/27/83 _ _//__ Monitor Status: CUSTODY _ _//__ _**Monitor:**_  61δ_

_• • •_

____**SUBJECT:**__ 322 _ _//__ ___**BATCH:**_ 21 _ _//__ __**Alternate Designation:**_ Sawicki, Antoinette _ _ _ _//____ __**Disposition:**__ Living _ _//__ _**Current Location:**_ Providence, Rhode Island, USA _ _//__ _**Date of Birth:**_ 11/05/82 _ _//__ _**Monitor Status:**_ ACTIVE _ _//__ _**Monitor:**_ 48φ_

_• • •_

___**SUBJECT:**__ 819 _ _//__ _ _**BATCH:** 52 _ _//__ _ __**Alternate Designation:**_ ^^UNKNOWN^^ _ _//__ _ __**Disposition:** _^^_ UNKNOWN _^^ _ _//__ __ _ ___**Current Location:**_ _^^_ UNKNOWN _^^ _ _//__ __ _ ___**Monitor Status:**_ ^^UNMONITORED^^ _ _//__ _ _ __**Monitor:**_ __^^__ NOT APPLICABLE _ _^^ _ _//__ ___ _**Time Since Last Contact:** +1569 DAYS _ _//__ _ _**Recovery Priority:** 1_


	31. Chuck Vs. The Six Pack, Part 31

§§§§§§

Even if he couldn’t fix or solve or undo a single thing about this one aspect of her life— _their_ lives, now—Chuck still had this way of making Sarah feel like everything was going to be better than it had been before. Before it had been the two of them, before Chuck and Sarah became _chucknsarah_ , or whatever that weird nickname was for the two of them that Morgan had picked up from Casey.

“I’m so sorry that I never told you any of this before,” she said, while he shook his head as if he’d be telling her no apology was needed, if he hadn't been so invested in listening to her, “I really am, I just, I didn’t wanna put anybody else in danger. ”

Sarah was cheerfully humbled by Chuck’s receptiveness, his willingness to take her just as she was, even when that changed midstream. “I know this is all so sudden. And bizarre. Thank you for trusting me.”

“You know I always will,” Chuck said, whole-souled.

The unforced warmth in his voice almost sent her burrowing into his arms.

§§§§§§

“Babe, I love you.”

What else could he possibly have to say? He had a gut feeling the _starting now_ clause Sarah had once emphasized about their “no secrets, no lies” rule might’ve been one hundred percent down to this.

“Even though I come in six-packs? ” Sarah cracked, as he stood so he could wrap her up in his arms.

Chuck knew most everyone thought Sarah Walker was bulletproof inside and out, but he knew better.

“Bet you didn’t think I’d gotten around to those yet, did you? ” Sarah quipped, a little brokenly.

He damn well _had_ to give his wife a hug after that remark.

“Of all the things for you to remember from  _Hitchhiker’s_ …”

Chuck needed to hold her for a long time to come. Despite their stops and starts and rough patches, being with Sarah for real had been so much better than Chuck had ever thought possible. 

The drinking juice straight from the bottle and occasional stray forgotten empty bleaching tray and secret sisters included.

“There’s only  _one_ Sarah Walker.”


	32. Chuck Vs. The Six Pack, Part 32

§§§§§§

Chuck hated to think like this, after Sarah had just opened herself up to him so profoundly, but he couldn’t keep his mind from wandering to his questions about the baby that had sent them all scrambling to Hungary in the first place.

He could picture Sarah in CAT Squad mode times a thousand, well past formidable and straight into fierce protector mode.

More troublingly, if Sarah had no family that she could risk turning to, who would she have entrusted her to?

_Him?_ Chuck didn’t even know that much.

Would the baby—child, really, they’d be starting school by now—be safe where they were and with the people who were looking after them now? Did Graham help hide them too?

Worse yet, Chuck couldn’t help thinking about how reckless and desperate Ryker had seemed, almost like Ryker _needed_ this child.

But maybe one set of giant life-changing revelations was enough before he could even make his wife a half-decent meal. It would keep.  


Chuck continued rocking Sarah back and forth, keeping his thoughts to himself for now. He let the motion and warmth of Sarah pressed against him lull him back into a quiet calm.

“That’s Sarah _Bartowski_ ,” Sarah murmured, sure and content.

Chuck was trying to form a worthy response, when a scratching, whiny electronic buzz interrupted their peace.

§§§§§§

Chuck pulled sharply up and away from her.

“What was that?” Chuck asked, frowning.

“Yeah, what was that?”

The noise repeated. It sounded like it was coming from Chuck’s phone, but the squawk was too fuzzy for a notification, too short for a ringtone.

Chuck dug around in his pocket. As he pulled it out, they could both see it wasn’t even off of the lock screen.

Chuck ran his phone in front of her like one of those tricorder things, the noise growing louder as he brought the phone closer to her and up her body.


	33. Chuck Vs. The Six Pack, Part 33

§§§§§§

Sarah sat almost perfectly still, gazing intently at Chuck like she was hoping he wasn’t thinking exactly what she was thinking. 

Which,naturally, he was. After all, he’d been trained by the best.

Chuck’s stomach twisted as he ran his phone in an arc around Sarah’s head. The buzzing and chirping didn’t stop this time, instead getting a little louder, and definitively more like a… signal.

“That’s feedback,” Chuck said slowly, quietly, as he tried to home in on the exact source of their very small, very big problem. 

Chuck didn’t have much experience trying to use an iPhone as a finder for covert listening devices, but then again anyone even pretending to be a professional in the spy business wouldn’t be using such old and/or poorly manufactured equipment that it couldn’t pass the most basic interference tests against current consumer-grade electronics.

_“_ It’s a  _bug_ ,” Chuck mouthed at Sarah, who looked up at him, stricken, the pain and even guilt in her eyes saying what they both knew she shouldn’t voice.


	34. Chuck Vs. The Six Pack, Part 34

§§§§§§

Chuck reached towards Sarah with the same delicateapproach as if he was about to affectionately tuck her hair behind her ear. Sarah’s stomach twisted as she ducked her head slightly so Chuck could reach into her hair, carefully extracting whatever device had been setting off his phone.

It didn’t even feel like a loose bobby pin, it was so light. Chuck held up the tiny bug in front of him, by what looked like a wrapped pair of small, flexible antennae. Sarah didn’t have to know whose issue it was to recognize the likely purpose for the design: to transmit live data at a greater distance than a GLG-20 or even an EM-50, the range boosted by the lack of shielding. 

Whoever had planted the bug on her had to be relatively close by—somewhere in Los Angeles, but not on their doorstep, thank God.

§§§§§§

Sarah took the bug from between Chuck’s fingers, and looked up to him in absolute anguish, before gaping back down at the small listening device. He knew she was taking the blame on herself, but this was _his_ fault, if it was anyone’s other than Dyad’s. _Or Shaw’s. Or—_

“ _Ryker…_ or _Helena_?” Chuck mouthed at Sarah. 

He didn’t have the complete picture, not even now, but for some reason he was far more worried about the possibility of Helena turning up in L.A. If Ryker was on a burn list, he might not even make it into the country without being taken into custody. Sarah hadn’t indicated that Helena had so much as an outstanding warrant for a parking ticket.

Sarah’s expression toughened, her mouth tightening into a thin-lipped, tight-jawed grimace. Then she popped the bug hard enough between her fingers to make the magic blue smoke come out.

Whoever had been on the end of that might’ve gotten a loud earful, or worse, depending on their receiver and how high they’d had their gain turned up.

If they tried to come after Sarah or her family, blown eardrums would be the least of their problems.

§§§§§§

Ryker must’ve had them followed to the airport or interrogated or bribed airport staff after their departure. Two Americans hauling an unconscious woman through Ferenc Liszt, whether on a stretcher or in a wheelchair, would hardly be inconspicuous. Helena would’ve just stowed away on the freaking plane.

Sarah felt ill. How could she have been so careless, have assumed they’d gotten away scot-free? After all this time, with all the precautions Cosima and Alison and she had taken, the way they’d all kept each other beyond arms’ length, and now Dyad might land right on their doorsteps, thanks to her. There was no way a rank opportunist like Ryker wouldn’t try to milk every last possible advantage out of what she’d just confessed to Chuck.

Sarah crushed the bug between her fingers in disgust. It wasn’t as satisfying as doing a _Jarabe Tapatío_ on the damned thing (or Ryker’s smug face), but it would have to do for now.

The only hope they had, faint as it was, was that Ryker would find her story so preposterous that he’d assume they’d found the bug earlier and were stringing him along to keep the connection open while they tracked him down themselves.

“Either one,” Sarah growled, “we have to warn Alison and Cosima _now_.”

§§§§§§ §§§§§§ §§§§§§  


**Author's Note:**

> Chuck Vs. The Six Pack just scarcely qualifies as an Orphan Black AU, since the normal characters either aren't seen, don't exist, or are being "played" by someone entirely different, and it ignores OB continuity almost altogether. If you've gotten to the end, first of all, thanks, and second, if you feel strongly like this ought to have Orphan Black tags, let me know. Ta!


End file.
